


dream a little dream of me

by nyachnyachn



Series: Million Pieces (TSV One-shots) [3]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Fluff, M/M, meeting in a dream au, soulmate(ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyachnyachn/pseuds/nyachnyachn
Summary: their first meeting was in a dream.except not really.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: Million Pieces (TSV One-shots) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578616
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	dream a little dream of me

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually a fusion of two fics that i made for my old fandom but never got to finish hahaha *cries*  
> the version of this song that i listened to is by clare teal and grant windsor on their album “and so it goes”

Brett thinks that this dream is weird.

He went to bed at 10 P.M. as usual. Then he opened his eyes to this pitch black place. He wandered and wandered and wandered and never reached the edge. So he stopped.

And, here he is. Sitting at the ground of nothing. Staring at the endless pit of nothing.

Honestly? It’s boring. There are so much a 6 year-old boy can do without anything around.

Oh, and weird. He’s said that at the beginning, but he’s going to repeat it. Because he can see his hands and feet so clearly in the dark. Also, he knows that being aware that he’s in a dream is weird. Especially when the dream is so empty.

Brett wishes for his violin or gameboy to appear. Nothing happens.

What kind of dream is this? A bad one. He’s disappointed by his own brain.

He sighs. What he’s going to do until he wakes up then? The math homework today pops up in his mind. What questions are there—

A squeak.

Brett also squeaks in surprise.

"Uh. Hi," someone, who turns out to be a boy around Brett's age when he raises his head, waves his hand shyly. He speaks English but with the same Taiwanese accent Brett still has in his talking. "Sorry if I surprised you."

"It's fine."

"Is this a dream?" the boy asks, tilting his head slightly. "Because it feels like one." Then he peers curiously at Brett. "That means you're a figment of my imagination."

"Isn't it the opposite? You suddenly appeared in my dream."

"But it's my dream."

"We share the same dream then."

"Does it mean you're real?"

Brett stands then walks closer to the boy. He offers his hand. "I'm Brett Yang. And yes, I'm real. What about you?"

The boy stares at his hand. Brett can see the hesitation in his eyes. Three seconds later, he slowly grasps it with his hand. It’s warm and solid to touch. And Brett gets a bit of a tingle from the contact. "Eddy Chen. I'm real too."

Brett chooses to believe his words, simply because it feels right. Eddy seems to do the same, looking curiously at their hands.

Letting go of his hand, Brett asks, "How did this happen?"

"I don't know. I'm also confused."

_ Well _ , Brett thinks.  _ At least I'm not alone. _

He changes the question. "What do you like to do?"

"I like playing games," Eddy answers, tugging at the hem of his white T-shirt. "But Mama only allows it after I have practiced."

Brett raises his eyebrows. That phrase sounds familiar. "Practice?"

"Music. I play piano. And violin."

"Really?" Brett perks up "Me too!"

From there, their conversation flows smoothly, from about music lessons to exchanging tips and tricks over Pokemon and Mario Kart.

Brett’s about to say something when their figure suddenly fades. The look of confused horror as Eddy looks up to him is probably reflected on Brett’s face. They keep staring until—

—Brett is in his room, staring at the cream-colored ceiling.

He blinks.

Brett thinks he had a weird dream. Hazy images spin around on his head, filling him with giddiness. It's like someone is tickling on his chest. He giggles at the sensation.

It must be a weirdly nice dream, he concludes. 

His bright mood lasts throughout the day.

*

Darkness.

Eddy blinks. He went to sleep just now, wasn't he? Then this… this is a dream.

_ Oh, right _ . He had this one before.

He walks blindly, searching for—what’s that boy’s name again? Brett? This place is as dark as a few weeks ago. Why can't he change the color with his mind? That's how dream works, right? It follows what he's thinking of.

At least here, he won’t get tripped by something every five minutes. A small blessing, he supposes.

Right as Eddy thinks that, he stumbles over something. He lets out an ‘oof’ as his body meets the ground. Strangely it doesn’t hurt at all.

“Huh?”

That something turns out to be Brett. Brett’s foot, specifically.

“Oh, sorry,” he says as his eyes meet Eddy’s. “I just… woke up.” He snorts. “‘Woke up’ in a dream. Doesn’t sound weird at all.”

Eddy moves to sit cross-legged in front of Brett, who does the same. “It does feel like waking up.”

“Still weird. I’m going to use that word a lot.” He pauses, frowning. “When we just went transparent is also weird. And scary.”

Nodding, Eddy chooses to shift the topic so he won’t remember that. “So, what are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know. Talk?”

An idea occurs to him. “How about we play a charade? My class just did that today, and it was really fun!”

“Okay,” Brett agrees. “You go first.”

For an hour, they take turn to mimic things. At first, it was simple things like brushing teeth, playing violin, swimming, and eating. It turns into a lot of laughing and wheezing when they start on animals.

This time, Eddy is too busy doing exactly that at Brett’s fumbling motion and funny face to even feel the crawling sensation of his body going to fade.

When Eddy opens his eyes, lying on his bed, the memory already evaporates but he can’t stop laughing.

*

A month later, it happens again.

Since there are no toys or things around as usual, they play charades again. When they get bored of it, they stop and talk. Sharing pieces of themselves as they go: their family, favorite and hated foods and things, before they fade.

Half a month in, it happens again.

They share and complain about the pieces and techniques they have a hard time learning. Or about their music teacher. Or something happening in their school.

Three weeks, and it happens again.

Then, again.

And again.

Infrequently, but it  _ always _ happens. Both can’t remember anything when they wake up—only the impression of having a strange, fuzzy, happy dream. But, as soon as they step back inside the shared dreamworld, they remember everything. Although they won’t get used anytime soon with the telltale of the dream going to end—it’s like a cockroach crawling up their skin.

They’ve talked about where they live now and had lived before. Surprised when they find out they live in the same city, but immediately sad over how they probably won’t meet in reality.

It only makes them treasure every moment spent together, opening about themselves and learning about each other more and more.

In this void, they find a best friend.

*

Until the chance meeting at that math tutoring–Eddy at age 13 and Brett at 14.

The dream stops. Both still remembers nothing. They chat like two old friends that hasn’t met for a long time, feeling like they’ve known each other since they were born.

Life goes on.

*

At age 18, a month before he enters uni, Eddy has an epiphany.

Epiphany that he has a crush on Brett.

The following three weeks are a roller coaster of feelings. Eddy goes through stages of shock, denial, frustration, and self-existential crisis before he accepts that yeah, he’s bi—or heteroflexible, at least when it comes to Brett—and in love with him. Nothing changes. Everything has changed. It’s confusing—he’s still himself, but at the same time, he’s not.

Thankfully, said best friend isn’t here to watch this mess unfold. He’s still busy at the university, rehearsing for a performance for the opening ceremony. Which Eddy will attend next week, as he’ll be one of the freshmen there.

They still keep in contact through messages and calls, though. And, sure, Brett can catch onto some of the uneasiness on Eddy’s tone, but he isn’t the type to push unless he needs to. So, Eddy is safe. For now.

Eddy doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’ll make once he meets Brett face-to-face.

*

Blinking himself to awareness, Eddy stands up then rubs his eyes.

He checks his surroundings. Colors dance around the darkness in this place, like an image of the aurora he’s seen from the internet—but the hues are softer, like pastel pink, faded dark blue, and purple. This seems a bit familiar.

“Eddy?”

That voice.

Eddy turns to see Brett behind him, wearing that dark-gray sweater, white shirt peeking from behind it, and dark jeans. His eyes are wide behind the eyeglasses, hair a bit mussed up, and he looks so soft in the sky-blue background.

Yeah, Eddy could understand how he falls for him.

And he finally could understand why it all looks familiar. All the memories in this place coming back to him, like it always had before, with another memory from even far before that—the connection they had made that lead them here.

“It’s you.”

Brett quirks one of his eyebrows. “Yeah, it’s me. Who else?”

“No—I mean, do you remember the very first time we met?”

“Of course. It was—” He cuts off, his eyes widening as he’s recalling and connecting the dots before looking at Eddy in a surprised awe. “Oh. It was  _ you _ .”

"Yeah."

"So, this is real, right?” Brett gestures to all the space around them then shrugs. “Or as real as a dream can be."

Nodding, Eddy opens his mouth to say something, but stopped at the other’s next sentence, "Like, the first time I met you is actually here thirteen years ago?"

"Huh?"

"Am I wrong?"

"No, but—” Staring at Brett, Eddy is met with a look of confusion. “You don't remember the one before that?"

"Before? When exactly?"

“Uh, maybe I was wrong,” Eddy backtracks, even though internally he just  _ knows _ he wasn’t. “Probably on another dream I have about you—”

“You have dreams about me?”

_ Damn his mouth _ . “Yeah. Subconscious, you know how it is. It’s... normal. ”

“It is, but your reaction isn’t. You’re fidgeting,” Brett points out and Eddy stops doing that.  _ Fuck. _ “There’s something that makes you nervous.”

He wants to disappear, wishing for a hole opening right below him so he won’t deal with this.  _ Why does this dream never goes the way I want it to? Why does life throw another curveball at him right after he’s accepted his own feelings?  _ He’s not ready to admit it out loud to anyone, much less the object of his affection.

_ Oh, well _ , he thinks after five seconds of internal panic.  _ Brett won’t remember this when he wakes up, anyway _ . If they’re going to have this dream again, that’s another problem for future Eddy to deal with. Better now than never.

“If you don’t want to share about it, you don’t have to—”

Shaking his head, Eddy begins, “I.” Then he stops and sighs, ruffling his hair. “I guess you should know. It’s about you. Probably going to make you uncomfortable but I can’t keep this from you forever. This has eaten me for almost a month, as you can probably pick it up from my voice in our calls. But—but I've accepted this. I've accepted the fact that—” Those kind, droopy eyes stay on him, waiting with patience and understanding, and somehow calmness washes over him, letting the words flowing out easily, “—that I love you.”

Then he wakes up.

For the first time, Eddy can clearly recall every single dream. Like a movie playing out inside his mind, the film roll is spun, one by one, as his eyes stare blankly at the wall of his bedroom. The second it stops, the panic sets in: Brett’s probably the same. He probably recalls everything.

Without much thought, he shuts down his phone and shuts himself in his house. Reading a book, listening to music, or practicing—basically he does his best to avoid thinking about Brett.

*

In another place, at the same time, Brett wakes up with a feeling that something is missing. It bothers him the whole day.

At night, he flops down to his bed, tired after another day of rehearsal. His instinct tells him to contact Eddy. The other sounds like something has been bothering him for the past few weeks anyway. Maybe Brett can push him about it a little this time.

So he opens his phone and texts him.

No response for half an hour.

He tries calling.  _ Inactive _ , the operator says.  _ Strange. _

Worried, Brett messages Belle, and she replied that Eddy’s been confining himself in his room all day. He thanks her before putting his phone on the side table and putting his face on the pillow, sighing.

Guess Eddy’s still working on his god-knows-what problem. Most likely, it just got worse that he needs to take a day off from it—he does that sometimes. Well, Brett could relate, but he misses spending time with his best friend. 

Sighing again, Brett gets up to the bathroom to wash his face and teeth. He can ask Eddy after he gets into the uni. Hopefully the problem will be solved by then.

*

That night, he dreams of standing on a wide expanse of bright blue sky. There, he senses a lot of things.

Glimpses of a smile that create a warmth inside his chest. Laughters that bring him joy. Smell of rosin and wood and violin cases that give him strength. Lingering taste of snacks that reminds him of a company. Familiar, calloused hand on his shoulder that's always ready to steady him.

And, just like that, the rest unfolds.

*

The next second he blinks, the scenery changes. 

Déjà vu hits Brett like a brick, as he's still recovering from the overwhelming amounts of memories.

Eddy's confession yesterday. He remembers that too. Brett remembers the resignation etched on Eddy’s face as he struggled to explain and the calm but sad smile as he said it—before the dream cut off.

Talk about bad timing.

Speak of the devil, he's just appeared a few centimeters away in front of Brett, eyes going wide and shoulders risen in anxiety.

Brett quickly puts his hand to Eddy's wrist, rubbing on the skin there—it’s the same warmth after all these years, how could he not know? The effect is immediate: his shoulders droop and his stance relaxes. "Calm down. Whatever bad things you think may happen, it won't." Chuckling, he adds, "It's probably going to be the opposite."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this." Brett takes advantage of his grip on Eddy to pull him closer, and tiptoes to leave a chaste peck on his cheek. "I love you too."

When Brett glances up, Eddy’s eyes are still wide. But at least it’s from incredulity. It’s also glistening with tears and a glimmer of hope.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Brett grasps his hand, entwining their fingers. It’s the same warmth he felt all those years ago—and even before that. He smiles as Eddy tightens the hold right away. “You always feel like home to me. Safe and comforting. I guess that’s why I didn’t realize I love you until just now.”

Eddy’s hand twitches. “You’re not… getting bothered? By this?”

“No. It feels natural.” Gently putting his free hand to Eddy’s cheek, he adds, “Like I’m coming home.”

The tears fall and they kiss. There’s no fireworks in his head or butterflies inside his stomach. Only the taste of salt on his tongue, Eddy’s firm grip on his waist, and his mind settles.

*

This time when he wakes up, Brett shoots a text at Eddy, telling him that he’s coming to his house. In a span of fifteen minutes, Brett cleans himself up, grab a random shirt and pants, change into them, and bolts out of his house to his car.

Brett can’t stop tapping the wheels the whole time he’s on the road. Call him impatient, but he really, really needs to see Eddy now. To make sure it’s real—that he’s not making this up in his own mind.

Turning to the left, he can see Eddy’s house amongst a row of houses.

Finally.

The street is empty as he pushes the pedal and abruptly brakes right in front of the cream-colored house. Exiting the car, Brett can see Eddy’s figure on the window getting blurry as Eddy runs to open the front door.

As soon as their eyes meet, Brett knows  _ yeah _ , it’s real; the dream is a part of their reality too.

Eddy’s whole face lights up, and Brett fastens his pace and throws himself at him. The laugh that Brett hears right at his ear, as soon as Eddy catches him in an embrace, is so contagious that Brett returns it, forehead on Eddy’s shoulder.

Pulling away a bit, Brett looks up to meet Eddy's eyes—the corners a bit crinkled as he grins toothily at him. It’s so bright and beautiful, and his heart feels full, and Brett doesn’t know what the right thing to do except pulling the other down for a kiss.

It's so much better in real life, Brett thinks.

*

_ The heaven is so blue, he thinks. _

_ It’s full of white, pliable clouds. He likes to play with it and feel its softness on his fingers. Children around him do the same too. There are some that put bits of it in their mouth—they always spit it out immediately. He’s curious about how it tastes, but he never dares to try it. Their reaction is amusing enough. _

_ Another boy walks closer to him. He wears the same white gown they all wear. The boy stops a few centimeters from him before grabbing a handful of the small cloud passing by and shove it in his own mouth. Watching the boy chewing it, he internally counts the seconds before the boy spit it out. _

_ But it never comes. Instead, the boy swallows it. Even as he scrunched his eyebrows in distaste. “Tasted funny.” _

_ He stares at him incredulously. _

_ The boy glances and stares back at him, wiping his mouth. “What?” _

“ _ You didn’t spit it out.” _

“ _ Ew. Who does that?” _

“ _ Everyone who tried to eat the clouds.” _

“ _ Isn’t it nasty? It’s been in your mouth then you spit it out only for others to step on it. Or for them to put it in their mouth too.” Then the boy gags. “Oh god. What if what I ate had been in other’s mouth before?” _

_ He giggles at the expression the boy makes. “It’s your fault for trying it in the first place.” _

“ _ I don’t recommend it.” _

“ _ Nah, I won’t try.” _

_ The boy looks over at him.  _ “ _ How long you’ve been here?” _

“ _ A while, I don’t know. You?” _

“ _ Longer than you. Probably. It won’t be long until I get called.” The boy shrugs. “Thought it’s my last chance to try the clouds.” _

“ _ What’s your number? Mine is 30325CC.” _

“ _ 20303YY.” _

“ _ Huh. The last batch is 20302, right?” _

“ _ Yeah.” _

_ Silence. He goes back to poke at the passing clouds. This one feels warm. _

_ "What do you think the world would look like down there?" _

_ "A lot of fun," he answers. He has thought about this before. "They have a lot of things than clouds, probably." _

_ "Probably?" _

_ "Got flashes of something like these clouds. It also comes in different sizes and shapes." He takes a small cloud. It's a bit cold to touch. Then he rolls it between his hands, forming a ball. "Sadly, it's not as easy to mold. But it's great for sleeping." _

_ "I had them too, but it's food." The boy makes a wide motion above his head with his arms. "A looooot of it. It makes me hungry." _

_ "You can't feel hunger yet." _

_ "Or something like that," the boy amends. _

_ "Makes sense why you ate that cloud just now." _

_ The boy shrugs then shares the description of the foods he has seen in his vision. They continue talking. They discuss and imagine how life would be below. _

_ A ringing bell from one of the speakers above interrupts them. _

_ "Kids with number 20303, please gather at the east gate." _

_ The boy turns to him with a sad look on his face. _ “ _ It's been fun to talk with you.” Then he goes for a hug. “I hope we can meet again down there.” _

_ He hugs back. “I promise we will.” _

“ _ How do you know that?” _

_ Stepping back, he grins at the boy. “I just do.” _

“ _ Okay,” the boy agrees easily before offering his pinkie. “Then I also promise I’ll be your partner.” _

_ He entwines it with his own.  _ “ _ Okay.” _

_ A small light appears, forming into two strings on their wrists. Silver on his and gold on the other's. He's entranced as they reach for each other, encircling their intertwined pinkies _ — _ he feels a slight tickle at that. The colors blend at the end as the strings merge into one. A second later, it shimmers before fading into nothing. _

“ _ We repeat, for kids with number 20303 to gather—” _

_ The announcement breaks their trance. Both jump in surprise before the boy quickly takes off. Once, the boy turns back just to wave at him. “Bye!” _

_ Excited, he returns the gesture and shouts, “See you later!” _

_ He catches a glimpse of a smile before the boy turns back and runs. His figure gets smaller and smaller until it’s only a speck between the clouds and other children. _

_ Sitting on the space the boy had left, he feels a bit lonely. Though, he believes they will meet again soon. Then, they will be best friends and have fun together. _

_ Looking down on his fingers, recalling the strings and the sensation they have left, he smiles. _

_ He can’t wait for his turn to come. _

*


End file.
